The Crime at Halfpenny Bridge

by George Bellairs

  “What about Nancy?”

  “I don’t know.…”

  Hoggatt stroked his chin and mused a bit.

  “… Always strikes me as being a bit simple. Damned good looking and many of the local chaps would give their eyes for her, especially with the family money. But nowadays that type of mild, sweet country maiden girl isn’t bred. The modern girl’s sophisticated and knows all there is to know. So that’s why, somehow, Nancy’s a bit of a puzzle. Myself, I’d say she’s just about elevenpence half-penny to the shilling. Nothing wrong, I mean … not crazy or anything like that. But …”

  “I see what you’re getting at,” said Littlejohn. He smiled at Hoggatt’s frantic efforts to paint a picture. What about the brother?”

  “There are two. One’s at sea with the Merchant Navy. Never took to farming. The other, George, is the least likeable of the pair. He’s the younger and runs the farm. Takes after his father, but will never quite catch up to him. Lacks, somehow, that hard core of character that the old man’s got. Still, he’s as proud and fanatical on family matters. He’s set about one or two of the lads of the town who’ve fancied their chances with Nancy. Got himself in trouble a year or two ago for thrashing a chap who mentioned his sister in a pub.…”

  “Indeed!”

  “ Why? Do you think he’s something to do with Sam Prank’s death, sir?”

  “I’m sure he’s mixed-up in the business somewhere. Look at the facts we’ve discovered. We’ve found out that just before the crime, he crossed the swing-bridge, presumably from the Head to the quay. Then, Cromwell finds among Sam Prank’s abandoned effects, a picture of Nancy. We know, too, that on the night of his death, Rosie Lee was at Emmott’s Farm. They frankly admit that. Now, George Emmott saw Lee off their premises. My conversation with him seems to have reminded George that Lee had a torch. We know that he hadn’t one when he was brought here dead. Presumably, he lost it on the way … I carried off the wrong raincoat—how I did that, I don’t know—and when I returned to change it, I found George scrambling in a ditch by the farm gate. What for? Was he hunting for that torch and was it the object he put in his pocket as he caught sight of me?”

  Cromwell filled his meerschaum and laboriously lighted it.

  “Where does Boake come in, though?” he said between the puffs.

  “Ah,” replied the Inspector. “That’s what we have still to find out.”

  The ease with which Littlejohn smoked made the struggling Cromwell look like an amateur.

  “Have you got a theory, then?” asked Hoggatt eagerly.

  “Well, hardly a full-blown one, Superintendent, but the faint glimmering of one.…”

  “Are we allowed to know …? Or do you keep it under your hat until the end, like the men in books?”

  Cromwell swallowed a mouthful of smoke and interrupted the conference by choking coughs.

  Littlejohn was never one for keeping his thoughts to himself when sharing them with colleagues on the job would help the case. In fact, he’d never possessed the effrontery to fend-off his eager colleagues and finally present a dramatic denouement. He was essentially a team man and never tried to keep the ball to himself if, by a pass to a colleague, he could bring the solution nearer.

  “There’s no secret about my ideas on the case, although none of us would be so indiscreet as to startle the hare by shouting in his vicinity.… I think that somehow or other, Sam Prank had been pestering Nancy. Cromwell’s old hag at Redport said he gave her up for her own daughter. Most proud mothers would say the same. However, Sam was becoming a nuisance to Nancy. Now, Boake was a family friend and very fond of the girl. Where does he come in? We know on the day before his death, Sam visited Boake. What for? We thought blackmail. Had Sam somehow got a hold over Nancy, or Boake, or the Emmotts? After Sam’s visit, Boake sent for George Emmott. What for? To tell him what Sam was after and warn him? Whatever it was, Sam died that night just after George had crossed the Halfpenny Bridge, didn’t he? Did George put paid to him? Or was it Boake?”

  “But Boake’s supposed to be too ill to move.…”

  “True. We’ve to find out more about his illness and whether or not he could have managed to get to the quay.…”

  “But …”

  “The fire-escape from the corridor on Boake’s wing of the hospital ends within fifty yards of the quay, I noticed to-day. Was he fit to scramble down and push Sam in the water after hitting him over the head? The day after the murder, I’m told, Boake had a relapse. Was it through the news … or did he really get up? I’d say it was the news that did it and that George did the work for him after their little talk together. But we must be sure. I’m going to see the hospital people again almost at once.…”

  “And what about Lee?” insisted Hoggatt.

  “Lee lent Prank money and Prank told him he’d repay him from the proceeds of a little job he had in hand. Sam also left a packet with Lee for safe-keeping. Did Lee, on hearing of Sam’s death, open the packet and, finding it worth selling to the Emmotts for some reason, take the foolish step of going there, bearding the lions in their den, and trying a bit of blackmail on his own account? They said he went gathering black-market stuff. What a tale! They said they’d shown him the door several times before, but he persisted. As if a man like Lee would keep pestering a family like the Emmotts.…”

  “So you think it’s George?”

  “I’d put my money on him at present. But that’s only a theory. We’ve got to make a watertight case before we can breathe a word about it outside this room.…”

  “I can quite see that.”

  There was a tap on the door and a red-faced sergeant thrust his face in.

  “Excuse me, sir,” he said, addressing Hoggatt. “They’ve just ’phoned from the hospital. Mr. Boake’s wanting to see Inspector Littlejohn. He’s that anxious about it, they say, that it’s not doing him any good. Could the Inspector go soon?”

  “Thanks, sergeant,” said Littlejohn. “Nothing would suit me better. I’ll go right away.”

  As he passed through the charge-room, he overheard two constables talking. One was laughing over an episode in which he’d just been involved.

  “… Just had to make the peace between little Tebb, on the swing-bridge, and a hulking chap who’d offered him a ten-bob note for a halfpenny toll. Tebb was pulling his jacket off and Wanting to set about him.… The big chap took to his heels.…”

  XVII

  A CONFESSION

  LIITLEJOHN made his way through the narrow streets of old Werrymouth and entered the Samaritan Hospital. Old Fred Kissack, the janitor, met him at the door.

  “I’m glad you’ve arrived, Inspector. Mr. Boake’s nearly off ’is ’ead wanting to see you.…”

  “Why?”

  “He’s been in a proper tear ever since I told him you’d called here. I gossip with ’im when I lay the fire in the mornings and I sort of collect all the bits of news for him. Nacherally, I told ’im of your call. And then, yesterday, Mr. Podmore was here, sick-visitin’, and after he’d gone, nothing would do for Mr. Boake but that he must see you. He never slept a wink last night, they tell me, so Sister said to please him, he could see you. Better not waste your time here with my chatter, sir. I’ll let ’em know you’re waiting.”

  They told Littlejohn he’d be allowed a few minutes only and that he mustn’t disturb the patient.

  The private wards of the Samaritan are in a small new wing on the first floor. Twelve of them; six on each side of a long airy corridor. Access to this annexe is from the main wing, but there is an emergency door with a fire escape leading from the far end of the passage down to the street.

  Littlejohn felt a bit excited as he entered Boake’s room.

  “Good afternoon, sir. I hope you’re feeling better.”

  But Boake didn’t look it. All Littlejohn could see of him was his head and face protruding from the white sheets, which his pale, flabby hands were grasping tightly.

  The head was large and fine,
with a shock of grey hair. Boake had been shaved and his rather heavy grey moustache was trimmed. His skin looked healthy and pink enough, but his grey eyes were sunken in deep dark orbits and glowed with excitement or fever.

  “I’m better, Inspector, and I’m glad you’ve called. You’ve been very worried about me, I hear.”

  “Well, sir, I oughtn’t to be bringing my troubles to the sick room, but as I gather it will relieve your anxiety to hear what all this is about. I’ll try to tell you very briefly. You see, Sam Prank, who met an untimely death the other day, as you’ve already heard, called here to see you just before it happened … The day before, in fact, didn’t he?”

  “Yes. That’s what I want to talk to you about. I know you’ve been delving into my connections with Prank. Mr. Podmore told me when he was last here.”

  He broke off and coughed a little. His voice was unsteady from weakness or lack of use.

  “We haven’t very long together, Inspector, and I’ll be glad if you’ll listen patiently to what I’ve got to say. It will save you and a lot of innocent people much trouble if I tell you my tale.… By the way, Kissack told me you’d been enquiring about the Emmotts calling here. Have you been to the farm to see them?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You found them all well?”

  The eyes glowed feverishly again.

  “Yes.”

  “That’s good. Now, let me get on. I want to make a statement which I will sign later.…”

  “This is rather a surprise, sir. I hadn’t come prepared …

  “Never mind that. You can jot down a few notes, take them away with you, and have the statement typed. Bring or send it to me and I’ll sign it. You needn’t think I want it copying out verbatim. It’s the spirit, not the letter, I’m after. It’s a confession I’ve to make. I killed Sam Prank.”

  It was Littlejohn’s turn to go pale. This was quite a bombshell. During the whole investigation he’d regarded Boake as totally hors de combat and safely tucked in his hospital bed.… Now, here he was saying that he’d pushed Prank into the dock basin. Or, that was what it amounted to.

  The schoolmaster spoke in slow measured tones, staring at the ceiling.

  “I know you’re a bit surprised, Inspector, but I can explain.”

  Littlejohn took out his notebook and pencil. It seemed silly, but that was what Boake wanted, so to please him …

  “… First of all, maybe you think it impossible for me to have got up in my condition and put an end to Prank. Let me explain. On the Friday before Prank died, I was allowed up for the first time. They were quite pleased with me here and I must say that I, too, was very well satisfied. I stayed out whilst my bed was made, sitting in a chair for most of the time. I’d been worrying them for a bath, as well. They said, if I was good, I could go to the bathroom, just down the corridor there, in a few days’ time. Got that?”

  Boake was growing animated and levered himself up in bed almost to sitting position.

  A nurse put her head round the door.

  “All right, Mr. Boake? You’ve not much longer with your visitor. Won’t do to over-tire you.…”

  “I’m all right, thanks, nurse.”

  “… Where were we? Yes … Then, on Friday afternoon, Prank called. He used to attend my school and a more disreputable fellow I never came across. He was bad at school and we couldn’t do any good with him. As he grew older, he got worse. Well, he came to extort money from me. He had information in his possession which, if disclosed, would have made some people very dear to me most unhappy. He’d been to see me once before at the school and I’d foolishly given him most of my ready money in exchange for his silence. I thought that would have satisfied him, especially as he gave his word.… But what are promises from a man like Prank? I made a big mistake in starting it. To cut a long story short, he came to squeeze me again. Pleas and threats on my part being in vain, I decided that I’d have to do something drastic.…”

  Littlejohn jotted down a note or two. It all seemed utterly fantastic, but Boake sounded so earnest.

  “After he’d gone I began to think things over. If I could manage to get out, I could perhaps silence him for good. You see, the thing became an obsession. I’d willingly have given my own life to save those friends of mine.…”

  “Suppose you tell me, sir, just how you got out of this place to kill Prank, and how you knew where he was likely to be.…”

  “I told you, Inspector, he was here threatening me on the Friday afternoon. He wanted another two hundred pounds and he’d give me till ten o’clock on Saturday night. I couldn’t get out myself. I must arrange for somebody to meet him just by the swing-bridge at ten-thirty and hand him the money. And if I told the police, the trouble would start, because he’d made provision for the letters.…”

  “They were letters, were they, sir?”

  “Yes.… I’ll tell you that later. As I said, I thought the thing out as I lay here. This was only the beginning. I’ve not much money … only what I earn and the prospect of my pension.… I couldn’t keep up payment under the blackmailing scheme, in which case Prank would be sure to hand the letters to my wife, as he said he would. So I decided to kill him if I could get to the rendez-vous.”

  “I see.…”

  “There’s not much more to tell. There was nobody about. I got out of bed and tried a turn or two round the room. I managed all right. Then, I had a rest and tried another turn or two. Convinced that I could manage it, I settled down and made my plan.… You’re getting it down, aren’t you, Inspector?”

  Littlejohn continued to scribble a few notes in his book. He felt to be living in an unreal world. Boake seemed so sincere, yet the story was incredible.

  “The night sister comes on at nine-thirty. By ten, she’s visited and tucked us all in and the wing is quiet for the night. Now and then, you hear her visiting the serious cases, but usually, she won’t pop in here again until about midnight to see if you’re asleep or needing anything. When she’d left me, I waited calmly, finishing my plan in my mind and then at ten o’clock, I got up, put on my trousers and dressing-gown and let myself out. The fire escape at the end of the passage gives on to the street and the door is always loose. I went that way. At the door stands a bin of sand for A.R.P. purposes. From that sand I filled one of my socks and thus I had a weapon. Got it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Time to settle down again.…” The nurse was back looking very solicitous.

  “Just another five minutes, nurse.”

  “Very well, sir, but not a minute longer. And don’t you go getting excited, or else …”

  Boake was speeding-up his tale and getting worked up about it.

  “I don’t know however I managed to do it. Half down the steps I was drained of energy … I stopped a dozen times on the way and then actually sat on the pavement in a side-street whilst I waited for Prank. Finally, he arrived. I could see his form.… No mistaking it.

  … Tall and with that peculiar twisting stoop I always hated. I made no bones. I gathered all my strength, hit him with the home-made sand-bag and as he reeled, pushed him in the water. I prayed that he’d drown … and he did.”

  “Then …”

  “I made my way back here by slow degrees and got back to bed. I was in a stupor and don’t know how I got back. Sheer will, I think, for I can’t remember anything after I pushed Prank in the water. The next I knew, the nurse was with me and I was fearfully ill.….”

  “You don’t remember anyone seeing you …?”

  “You mean.… Oh yes. The lighthouse coming on and the two sailors who gave evidence.… No. I was too all-in for even that.”

  “I see. Do you happen to know a man called Lee?”

  “Lee? No. Why?”

  “I just wondered. He was a friend of Prank’s, that’s all. And now, sir. Just a word about the blackmail business. What was it all about?”

  “It’s very awkward, Inspector.… But I suppose I must tell you, because if I don’t, somebod
y else might be falsely accused of the crime I’ve done. I once wrote some letters to a friend of mine. I don’t know what came over me, but I did. I don’t get on well with my wife. It’s my own fault. I’m difficult to live with, I know. Well, I met this other lady. We grew friendly … intimately so. Nothing wrong, really, but she brought such joy and sweetness to a drab existence, that I wrote and told her so.… About half-a-dozen letters, written whilst I was away in London at a conference, that’s all. Somehow, Prank got hold of ’em. Said he’d hand them to my wife if I didn’t pay up. It wasn’t so much the row I’d get in, that I was troubled about. It was the scandal that would start about my friend. My wife’s long been seeking a way of getting at me.… She’d have made full use of such information, I’m sure. Probably have left me. Gossip would have done the rest. I couldn’t stand it and the thought of my friend.…”

  “Miss Nancy Emmott?”

  Boake’s face turned ashen and he rose in the bed.

  “How do you know …?”

  “Time’s up, Mr. Boake. You really must go now, sir.” It was the nurse again. Boake, however, wasn’t having any.

  “Do go away, nurse. I’m all right. Just another few minutes. This is important. I beg you, nurse.…”

  “Oh, very well. But don’t get so excited. This is my last word. Five more minutes, and not a second longer.”

  “Oh, dear. Yes, yes. All right, nurse.…”

  Littlejohn laid his hand gently on that of the sick man. “I’ve already told you I’ve spoken to the Emmotts. All of them. They speak of you as a very dear friend.…”

  “Yes. God bless them.… I had to tell you all this because I thought you’d think they’d done it. You see, Kissack said he’d told you that Nancy and George had called and that I’d spoken to George alone. I was sure you’d discover that Sam Prank had for long enough been pestering Nancy with his attentions and that there’d been a lot of trouble about it. Then, if somehow you heard about the letters, too, you’d be sure to think that the Emmotts had done it. By the way, I suppose the letters were on the body when they got it from the water …”